


Now Kiss

by kafrickinboom



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Bottom Emil Nekola, Crying, Cuties, Everyone Thinks They're Together, Feels, First Love, First Time, Fluff and Angst, Getting Together, I'm Bad At Titles, I'm Not Ashamed, Loss of Virginity, Love Confessions, M/M, Mentioned Lee Seung-gil, Mentioned Yuri Plisetsky, Mild Language, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Oral Sex, Sara and Mila are the best wingwomen, Smut, Tickling, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Top Michele Crispino, safe sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-31
Updated: 2017-05-31
Packaged: 2018-11-07 04:58:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11051811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kafrickinboom/pseuds/kafrickinboom
Summary: Emil was pretty sure he was dreaming. Really, in what universe would Michele Crispino actually invite him back to his hotel room to validate all of the rumors and assumptions made about them?





	Now Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [luciferswife](https://archiveofourown.org/users/luciferswife/gifts).



> Written for a request for the 'everyone already things we're doing it' prompt! I adore these two <3
> 
> Title comes from what I imagine Sara and Mila think every time these two idiots are within 5 feet of each other.

Emil was pretty sure he was dreaming. Really, in what universe would Michele Crispino actually invite him back to his hotel room to validate all of the rumors and assumptions made about them? He and Mickey had apparently been too distant with each other, and Sara and Mila (and everyone else, apparently) operated under the assumption that he and Mickey were sleeping together. Despite their protests, they seemed concerned for their ‘relationship,’ shoving them to the exit of the club, telling them to just fuck the problem out. 

Still, he never  _ actually _ believed Mickey would offer to make good on that suggestion. He subtly pinched himself just to check, bouncing on the balls of his feet, unable to smother the excited smile stretching across his face as he waited for Mickey to unlock the door. After a few seconds of standing there with no change, he cleared his throat.

“Change your mind?” He asked with false lightness that belied his true feelings, but he wouldn’t blame Mickey if he did. He’d be nursing a wounded ego and a broken heart for a while, but his dignity would remain intact...probably. His smile had dimmed, but he turned the brightness back to beaming when Mickey turned around, his caramel-brown skin suffused with a deep flush. 

“I-” Mickey cut off, pursing his lips with a clenched jaw, visibly very uncomfortable. He wouldn’t even fully meet Emil’s eye. He reached forward in concern, freezing at the resulting flinch.

“Mickey, what-”

“I’ve never done this.” Mickey blurted out, eyes wide as they fell to the ground. 

Emil felt a shock run through him at the new information. He could have sworn that Mickey had to have had  _ some _ kind of sexual experience, but on second thought, it made complete sense. He swore Mickey wore blinders when it came to his sister, so focused on protecting his sister that he probably never even stopped to consider himself or what he wanted. Emil wouldn’t be all that surprised if Mickey’s next admission was that he’d never even been in a relationship before. Not that he expected a relationship to come from this. If this was still happening.  _ God, what a mess. _

He realized he’d stood there like a gaping idiot when Mickey sighed, “it’s okay. You can go now.”

“No!” He shouted, wincing at the shocked eyes jerking up to meet his own. He inched forward with a bitten lip, hesitant and suddenly nervous. He approached Mickey like he would run if Emil moved too quickly. He gently cupped Mickey’s face in his hands, bending down to confidently brush his lips over Mickey’s trembling mouth before murmuring against them, “no, Michele. Unless  _ you _ want me to go, I’m happy right where I am.”

Mickey swiftly surged up, crushing his mouth to Emil’s in a clumsy, uncoordinated kiss. He huffed in pain, using the grip he had on the older man’s face to readjust the angle. Both he and Mickey groaned into the kiss as Emil tested the waters with a tongue running over the seam of Mickey’s lips, who readily granted him admittance with a gasp. He let his eyes flutter open for a moment just to see the effect he’d had on the older man only to notice Mickey’s hands awkwardly were hanging in his periphery, in the air on either side of Emil’s waist. Emil pulled back, panting as he rested his forehead against Mickey’s.

“You know you can touch me, right?” 

Mickey grimaced in response, turning his face like he was trying to hide. 

“Hey, no. I’m not making fun of you. I’m just...letting you know.” Emil said, tilting his head with an understanding smile. 

He knew Mickey was nervous. You could read that in the tense lines of his body from a mile away. Emil wanted to find out all the ways to make those rigid lines slacken, to make Mickey melt, to just let go of all that tightly-reined control. He watched as Mickey’s brows furrowed in consideration for a moment before pushing Emil back a step, whirling around to unlock the door. He reached back, grabbing Emil tight by the wrist and dragging him inside. 

The door slammed shut behind them and everything froze...again. It felt like as soon as Mickey made a baby step in the direction of their plans, he choked. Judging by the heat of that kiss and the heat in his eyes when they trailed over Emil, he  _ wanted _ this. It was only a matter of getting Mickey out of his own head long enough to enjoy it.

He stepped around Mickey, turning to pull him in for a hug, ignoring the way Mickey tensed under his arms. He rested his head against Mickey’s, sighing when the older man’s stiff stance slowly loosened under his arms. He hid his smiling face in the crook of Mickey’s shoulder, his heart skipping has Mickey’s strong arms hesitantly wrapped around him.

“Please relax, Mickey. I promise I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to. If you don’t want to do anything tonight, I’m not going to be upset. We can always do it another time if you want.” He said calmly, before realizing that Mickey would probably think he’s trying to box him into a decision. In a rush, he added, “o-or not at all! It’s up to you. I also  _ really _ don’t want you to be uncomfortable or scared or whatever around me, so just tell me what I need to do to-” 

Emil cut off as Mickey pulled back with an incredulous smile. He blushed at the rare sight. Michele Crispino was  _ not _ one known for smiling in just about any capacity. His grump factor was beaten only by Yuri Plisetsky’s explosive temper and maybe Seung-gil Lee’s cold shoulder approach to, well,  _ everyone. _ All of Mickey’s best smiles were reserved for his twin sister, Sara. Emil had only had one of Mickey’s low-level, wry smiles directed at him, and he thought he’d melt into the floor. (The intensity of his feelings for Michele was a bit embarrassing, really.) Even now, even with its incredulous edge, Emil found himself helplessly smiling back. 

Not for the first time, Emil came to the realization that he was probably looking at Mickey like a dopey idiot. He blinked hard, shaking his head to refocus when Mickey’s rough fingers grabbed one of his hands. He watched with wide eyes as Mickey swallowed thickly, pressing a shy kiss to his palm. It was his turn to swallow thickly as Mickey continued pressing small, unhurried kisses to each of his fingertips, to his exposed wrist before pausing.

“I’m not sca-  _ nervous _ because of  _ you. _ I’m nervous because of me.” He dropped his head forward onto Emil’s shoulder. “I guess I just… I wanted my first time to mean something more than a meaningless one-night stand.”

Emil’s face immediately dropped, a leaden feeling settling in his gut as a lump lodged in his throat. He didn’t even have a logical reason for his reaction. He  _ knew _ he wouldn't be Mickey’s first choice to be Mickey’s first anything, that if anything happened between them, it wouldn't mean anything to him, and Emil was stupid to have gotten his hopes up that maybe he was wrong. He swallowed past the tightness, clearing his throat and pasting on an approximation of his usual, upbeat smile before stepping away. He refused to cry in front of Mickey - the older man didn’t deserve to deal with Emil’s emotional bullshit just because he didn’t feel the same way.

“I-yeah. I-I  _ totally _ get that. Maybe we shouldn’t, uh...we shouldn’t do this then.” Emil could feel the stinging in his eyes as Mickey looked at him like  _ he _ hurt  _ Mickey, _ which didn’t make any sense, but whatever. When Emil accepted Mickey’s invitation, he wasn’t prepared for the rug to be pulled out from under him. Mickey  _ should _ wait for something more special- more special to him. He meant the world to Emil, but Emil couldn’t make himself the world to Mickey, and losing his virginity was obviously an important thing to the older man. He closed his eyes against the image of Mickey’s hands wringing in front of him, a deep frown set on his face as Emil nodded to himself. “You should give yourself to someone you actually want back.”

And with that, he booked it out of there. He ignored Mickey’s shout to just  _ wait, _ slamming the door behind him. He ignored the sound of two doors opening behind him, and he ignored the low, heated whispers between the Crispino twins. He ignored the tears burning behind his eyes as he ran to the elevator. He didn’t want to leave a single thing to chance, and the elevator was the quickest escape. He impatiently bounced in place, almost ready to say ‘fuck it’ and take the stairs when the doors finally opened. 

He sighed in relief, jabbing the button to his floor (he never thought he’d be so thankful for having a room so far from his friends in his life) and the ‘close door’ button, sinking back against the opposite wall, his head tilted back as he let go of the control he’d had on his tears. They burned on the way down his cheeks, but like with everything Emil did in his life, he took it in stride. 

A slapping sound startled Emil out of his little bout of misery, blanching as the doors reopened to an angry Michele. 

“Where the hell are you-” Mickey cut off when he got a good look at Emil’s face, trembling with the effort to stop the crying, undoubtedly reddened and streaked with tear tracks, his eyes still swimming. He undoubtedly looked like a wreck as he curled in on himself. All traces of anger left Mickey as he stepped in, unfazed by the fact that they were heading in the opposite direction of his room. He looked concerned as he trailed the backs of his fingers over Emil’s cheeks. “Emil, what-” 

Emil turned his face away, his face spasming like he was in physical pain (beyond his breaking heart, of course), and Mickey’s hand heavily dropped back to his side.    
  
“I think we need to talk about this,” Mickey’s voice was final in the oppressive silence of elevator, eyes boring into Emil’s, and Emil was pretty sure there was little more he’d rather  _ not _ do than talk about this. Still, Emil was a giver and provider in the highest, and he'd never been able to say no to a Crispino before anyway, so he just slumped, nodding in resignation with his eyes trained on the ceiling above them.

Emil wasn’t sure what kind of time magic was being used in the elevator, but he was pretty sure it took about ten years of his life to get to his floor. He didn’t even wait for the doors to fully open before he darted out into the hall. He shook off the feeling of claustrophobia from his tense shoulders as he swiped the card to his room. 

Apparently Mickey kept up with Emil’s quick pace because he was hot on Emil’s heels, shouldering past him and into the room before he could beg off from talking about what had happened until tomorrow (re: never). Emil closed the door, moving slowly to maximize the amount of time he could avoid this whole thing. He refused to meet Mickey’s eyes as he toed off his shoes, arranging them so they were perfectly parallel with the wall. He lazily unzipped his jacket, uncharacteristically taking care to hanging it up on the coat rack rather than just haphazardly throwing it onto one of the chairs like usual.

He went into the bathroom, ignoring Mickey’s indignant  _ ‘hey.’ _ He needed a shower. He felt like his skin was too tight for his body, and he wanted to wash himself clean of the feeling as best he could. He lathered up, taking greater care in scrubbing his hair and body than usual, washing everything  _ thrice _ as he thought about everything. 

Emil wasn’t used to feeling like this. He was used to rolling with the punches, carefree and easygoing, rarely fazed by much and certainly nothing he couldn’t turn around. He was the master of taking it easy, of finding simple ways to fix any of the hardships that came his way.

_ This, _ though. This was nothing he could fix. He couldn’t  _ make _ someone want him back. It was just beyond his set of skills, he guessed.

He’d never felt for someone the way he felt for Michele. No one had ever made his heart beat in triple-time just by entering the room. No one had ever made him laugh so effortlessly as Mickey’s dry, sarcastic humor did.No one made him want to be their rock, their support for when times got rough. No one made him want to be  _ better. _ Emil wasn’t a child. He also wasn’t a mature, experienced man of the world. He’d never felt what it was like to be so close to having what he wanted and watching it slip between his fingers before. He’d never experienced a truly bruised heart until Michele Crispino.

Mickey was always rough around the edges, though, and sometimes those edges cut in a little too deeply, too meanly. Stupid things like distastefully asking ‘why the hell is  _ Emil _ here’ or rolling his eyes at one of the many times Emil just smiled at him or getting pissy when Emil was too close to Sara (though that one was kind of expected- Mickey was like that with everyone). Thinking back on all of their interactions, on all the negative responses he got in comparison to the few handfuls of positives, Emil really shouldn’t have been surprised that Mickey didn’t reciprocate his feelings. 

Emil, while feeling physically refreshed, didn’t feel emotionally better at all. If anything, he felt worse once the realization of how hopeless his feelings really were washed over him. He cursed as he realized he hadn’t thought to grab any pajamas or something to change into. He grimaced, opening the door a crack to warn Mickey that he’d want to look away, jumping with an embarrassing squeak when the man in question appeared right outside the doorway. 

Mickey’s mouth quivered like he was reining in a laugh, the amusement obvious in his eyes as he held up a small pile of clothes that Emil recognized to be his PJs. He scowled, grabbing them before slamming the door on Mickey’s face. How  _ dare _ he be so fucking adorable when Emil's heart was breaking. How  _ dare _ he let his eyes dance over Emil’s face like that rather than shifting in discomfort like he usually did. How  _ dare _ he wait patiently for Emil to finish rather than stalking off to his room (like Emil had half-expected, half-hoped he’d do). 

He sighed to himself. He had to face the music eventually, and it seemed Mickey was more than content to wait him out. Emil was many things, but patient enough to out-stubborn Michele Crispino was not one of them. He pulled on his clothes, haltingly entering the main room as he toweled his hair and beard until it was no longer dripping. 

“What did you mean back there?” Mickey wasted no time in asking, his voice barely above a murmur in the otherwise silent room. Emil’s eyes snapped to Mickey’s, already feeling overwhelmed by the intensity behind them. He also noted that Mickey’d taken the time to remove his shoes  _ and _ socks, settled and comfy on the bed with his elbows on his knees, completely ready to duke this out, and Emil suddenly felt exhausted.

“What do you mean what did I mean?” He shot back, and Mickey huffed impatiently.

“What did you mean by ‘I should give myself to someone I want _back?’”_ Mickey volleyed, and Emil dropped the ball, paling as he realized he’d actually said that last little word out loud. It was all the difference between keeping his feelings on the downlow and laying everything out on the table. Less than thirty seconds into this damned conversation and Emil was already feeling defeated. 

Emil bit his lip, looking off to the side. “I’m sorry, Mickey.” 

“What for?” Mickey’s tone reeked of confusion, and Emil rolled his eyes in exasperation.

“For, I don't know, for everyone thinking we’re sleeping together. For making you feel like, like you had to put yourself in such an uncomfortable situation. And for these, these, these fucking feelings that I have for you!” He stammered out with effort, ignoring the heat suffusing his face and chest and even up to his ears, ignoring the reappearance of his tears. He whirled around to get a grip on himself, sighing as he angrily rubbed the tears out of his eyes. He rested his forehead against the cool wall before him, continuing, forlorn. “I’m also sorry for being an emotional mess about you not feeling the same way.”

Emil startled when two large hands gripped his hips, forcefully turning him around and pushing him back against wall, disbelief and hope in every line of Mickey’s face as his eyes danced over Emil’s. Emil’s eyes flew wide as Mickey caged him in between two strong, muscled arms.

“Who told you I didn’t feel the same way?” Mickey asked, his voice a contradiction of soft and urgent. 

Emil’s frown deepened, smothering a flicker of bright, burning hope. “Don’t fuck with me, Michele.”

“When have I ever fucked with you?” Mickey asked, quickly interrupting whatever Emil was about to say with a short, “don’t answer that.” 

Emil smiled bitterly, pursing his lips as he found himself in the unprecedented position of being unsure of what to say next. He didn’t want to allow himself to hope that what Mickey was insinuating was that he actually had feelings for Emil too, just in case he misread the situation...again. But then again, if he misread the current situation, which was happening as the result of misreading the situation in Mickey’s room, wouldn’t he have been right all along? His head hurt thinking about it too long.

“Emil, I-I… Oh, fuck this,” Mickey rumbled, surging up to press his lips into Emil’s, a mimicry of their first kiss outside Mickey’s room. 

This time, Mickey didn’t smash his nose into Emil’s, and his hands didn’t hover in the air at Emil’s sides. They plunged into Emil’s hair, holding him steady as Mickey set to take him apart with his lips alone. Emil whimpered into the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around Mickey’s waist in some futile attempt to bring them closer than was physically possible. Emil lost himself in it, vibrating out of his fucking skin when Mickey clumsily fit a thigh between his legs. 

Emil groaned into Mickey’s mouth, grinding his hardening cock against the proffered thigh, reveling in the responding moans torn from the older man’s lips. Mickey’s hands tightened in his hair. His eyes rolled back in pleasure at the sensation. 

He tilted his head back, separating their lips for a moment to desperately pant out, “are you  _ sure _ you want to do this?”

Mickey pulled him back in for another hard kiss before shakily smirking up at him. “I’ve honestly wanted to do this for  _ ages. _ I just…” The rest of his sentence a mumbled mess that Emil couldn’t decipher.

“What?”

“I said I thought you wanted Sara,” was a loud rush that Emil had to run through his mind a couple times to translate, and when it connected, he burst out laughing. Right in Michele’s face. Whoops.

He felt like he couldn’t stop once he’d started, hysterical and incredulous and suddenly a lot of the missing puzzle pieces were falling into place. He laughed until tears collected in the corners in his eyes- a welcome change to the somber bullshit he’d been dealing with since leaving Mickey’s room. His laughter eventually died down, but the smile remained on his face as Mickey thumbed the tears away with a fond shake of his head. 

“I- No. It was never Sara,” Emil rolled his eyes with a smirk, feeling the melancholy lift off his shoulders in time with the lift of the corners of Mickey’s full lips. 

If Emil had thought Mickey’s small, private smiles were brilliant, Emil wasn’t sure there was a word for the blinding smile gracing Mickey’s face now. He was free of the usual surly line between his brows. His violet eyes seemed to shine brighter, his nose scrunched up in the most adorable way and his grin stretched to show off his white teeth and the dimples that rarely made an appearance. Emil absently traced a finger over one of them, awed by how fucking  _ beautiful _ Michele was. 

Mickey raised a brow at Emil’s vaguely dazzled expression. He cleared his throat as he flushed, tugging the hair at the back of Emil’s neck again, eliciting a gasp and fluttering eyes, bringing Emil back to the present. 

“Welcome back.” Mickey smirked. 

Emil stuck his tongue out at the older man before growing more serious. “I think I’m ready to talk about it now. Can we maybe...sit down?” 

Mickey immediately pulled away, and Emil strolled to the bed, jumping on and settling in cross-legged on one side of the bed. He watched as Mickey sauntered toward the bed, carefully sitting in the space provided for him.

“So, why didn’t you just tell me you liked me?” Emil started, and Mickey looked at Emil in exasperation.

“Why didn’t  _ you _ tell  _ me _ about  _ your _ feelings?” Mickey countered.

“I was 100% positive there was no chance you could ever love someone like me.” Emil answered honestly, without hesitation. Maybe too honestly, given the way Mickey’s face dropped to something like shock.

“W-why would you think something like that?” 

“Oh, I don’t know, Micks." He pretended to think before ticking these reasons off. "You never seemed to want me around. You rarely even looked at me when we all hung out. You didn’t like when I invited you out. You were kind of an ass to me most of the time. Half the time, you cringed when you saw me. You-”

“Okay, okay! I get it. I’m a douchebag.” Mickey cut in, rubbing at the back of his next uncomfortably as he frowned deeply to himself.

“Hey, no. You weren’t all bad. There were some good things too.” Emil scooted forward until his knees knocked against Mickey’s, delighting in the fact that Mickey didn't pull back as he slid his hands over Mickey’s. “You laugh at my stupid jokes.  _ You _ make  _ me _ laugh. Every time Mila and Sara left us at the club, you stayed with me to make sure I was safe. I mean, they’ve made it pretty obvious that they thought we were together multiple times, and you never acted like you were grossed out by it. You were there for me in ways that I’m not even sure you were aware of at the time.” He trailed off, smiling sweetly as he shrugged at Mickey’s wide-eyed expression before he threw the older man a wink. "So. You weren’t a  _ total _ douchebag.”

“Hey!” Mickey cried, playfully tackling Emil to the bed, laughing at the resulting squeaky,  _ manly _ involuntary shout. 

Mickey had the very unfortunate knowledge of all of Emil’s most ticklish spots, and he attacked them with precision, dodging flailing limbs and grinning at Emil’s helpless peals of laughter. 

He eventually squirmed just right, wrapping his legs tightly around Mickey’s waist, using all of his strength to flip them, body curling forward as he trapped one hand on the bed beside Mickey’s head, the other hand suddenly frozen against his ribs. The sound of exerted panting due to their wrestling was the only sound in the room.

Mickey swallowed heavily, darkened eyes running down Emil’s body, catching on the parts of his pajamas that clung to him just so. Mickey’s breathing picked up as he hesitantly laid his free hand over Emil’s chest. Emil licked his lips, biting down against the feeling of Mickey’s rough thumb grazing his nipple through his shirt, the rhythm of his own breathing picking up as the tension in the room skyrocketed.

Emil held himself still above Mickey, unsure of what to do. Well, he knew  _ what to do, _ but he still didn’t know how Mickey would respond. There was still a very real chance the older man would want to take things slow. He tested the waters by leaning down, stealing Mickey’s lips in a kiss that quickly went from sweet to battling for dominance in the span of two rapid heartbeats. Emil groaned into Mickey’s mouth as their tongues dragged against one another, as Mickey’s teeth grazed his bottom lip. 

Emil was slowly losing his fucking mind, heat licking just under his skin, shooting straight to his cock with each whimper, groan and pass of nails over his skin. His hand tightened around Mickey’s captive wrist, grinding downward to finally get some pressure on his straining cock, reveling in the shape of Mickey’s own pressing upwards to meet him through the layers of their clothing. 

Tearing himself back from the kiss with a groan, Emil pressed biting kisses into the line of Mickey’s jaw, pausing at his ear with a nibble, whispering, “what do you want to do tonight, Michele?”

Mickey whimpered, turning his deeply flushed face into the curve of Emil’s neck, “I, ah, I want to fuck you. I-if that’s okay.”

And  _ fuck, _ did that send an electrifying bolt through him. Emil grinding down once more with a low, drawn out groan before sitting up, freeing Mickey’s arm to excitedly whip his shirt over his head. He smirked at the gasp, at the way Mickey’s lip caught under his teeth, his hands hovering over Emil’s stomach like he was intimidated by the suddenly exposed expanse of bare skin. Emil caught his hands, pressing kisses into pads of Mickey’s fingers, winking at the realization dawning on the older man’s face. He guided Mickey’s hands over his skin, breathing growing harsh as they skated over his nipples, moaning low as they trailed down his stomach, panting with lust-blown eyes as he settled Mickey’s hands over his clothed cock standing at attention. 

“Off! Now,  _ please!” _ Mickey whimpered urgently, and Emil practically lept off the bed, leaving Mickey to push himself up on his elbows in confusion. “Not off  _ me. _ These clothes need to come off  _ now,” _ he demanded with a growl, and  _ shit. _

Emil almost faceplanted, tripping over his damn pant legs in his haste to rid himself of the offensive clothing. He stood up quickly, smiling bright as he confidently rested his hands on his hips. He’d always always been pretty content with his body, but blood rushed high on his cheeks as Mickey scooted forward, peeling his own shirt off. He made quick work of his belt and fly, raising his hips long enough to pull them down, and Emil wasted no time in helping Mickey tug them off the rest of the way. 

Mickey pulled him in by his hips, the violet of his eyes a thin ring around blown pupils. He licked his lips and, in some unforeseen burst of confidence, leaned forward to take the head of Emil’s cock into the warm, wet heat of his mouth. Emil shouted in surprised as Mickey’s tongue pressed hesitant, little kitten licks into his sensitive head. He carded his fingers into Mickey’s short hair, closing his eyes as he let himself enjoy the sensation. 

“S-suck me,  _ please, Michele. Fuck.” _ And Mickey groaned, his fingers gripping Emil’s hips hard enough to leave marks as he complied, doubling his enthusiasm as he shallowly rocked Emil’s hips forward and backward. 

Emil felt as if his legs would give out beneath him if this continued for much longer. Mickey’s strong, gym-roughened hands controlling the pace while Emil’s eyes rolled back in pleasure, inching him closer to the edge with each pass of Mickey’s tongue over the tip of his head. On a particularly hard suck, Emil  _ had _ to pull himself away, his harsh panting loud intermingling with Mickey’s as he gripped the base of his cock to stave off his orgasm.

“I’m gonna come if you keep that up.” He said breathlessly.

“Isn’t that the point?” Mickey’s swollen lips smirk as he raised that damn sarcastic brow. 

Emil huffed a laugh, trailing his free hand to rest under Mickey’s chin, tilting upward as Emil bent down to whisper against his lips, “not when I’m trying to come only when you’re buried inside me.”

His smirk sharpened as Mickey rushed to wrap his hand tight around his own cock. Emil shrugged innocently at the dirty, heated look Mickey shot at him.

“So, ah...how do you want to do this? This is your first time after all. I wanna make sure you get exactly what you want.” 

“I just- I just want to see you. That’s all?” Mickey practically pleaded, wide-eyed and frenzied in his excitement, and Emil swore this innocent man was going to fucking  _ kill _ him.

Emil bit his lip, uncharacteristically shy as he nodded his assent. “I kind of need to stretch myself, unless you want to do it?” 

Mickey made some sort of choked sound, shaking his head, “no, no. Not this time. I  _ really _ don’t think I’d last through that. Maybe I could...watch you? If that’s not to weird.” He’d avoided Emil’s eyes when he’d asked, and Emil had to fight the urge to coo at the older man. 

_ “Definitely _ not weird. You’re more than welcome.” He reassured as he grabbed the lube from his nightstand before crawling back on the bed.

He settled on his back as Mickey pivoted in place, turning to face Emil. Emil wantonly spread his legs wide, drawing a sharp gasp from Mickey’s lips. Emil was far from new to stretching himself, and he figured he’d have to be quick with this if he wanted Mickey to come inside him. Which reminded him-

“We need a condom. They’re in the inside pocket of my suitcase.” He gasped, plunging a finger into his hole, moving to two then three in quick succession as Mickey returned with the little, blue square. Mickey scrabbled onto the bed, fitting himself in the space between Emil’s thighs, his eyes round and trained on the way Emil’s fingers pumped in and out of his body for a moment longer before plucking the condom from his fingers. Emil opened the thing with his teeth, expertly pinching the tip as he rolled the condom on Mickey’s leaking cock.

Mickey’s hips bucked forward in Emil’s grip, the muscles of his abs contracting with the motion and Emil wanted to  _ bite them. _ Next time, for sure. For now, he rolled onto his hands and knees, spreading his knees wide as he shook his ass in invitation. He bit his lip on a smile at the resulting low spill of Italian cursing. 

“Like this? When I told you I wanted to see you, I, ah, I meant your face,” Mickey admitted, shy and quiet as he rested gentle hands on the swell of Emil’s ass, and who the hell was Emil to deny Mickey such a sweet request.

He gracelessly flipped back over, spreading his arms and legs wide to match the beaming grin spread over his face. Mickey’s fond huff and bashful smile was  _ always _ worth making himself look like a dork. He raised his hips in the air long enough to throw a pillow underneath before beckoning Mickey forward. The older man knee-walked forward, nervously settling his hands on Emil’s raised knees.

When he had Mickey where he wanted him, Emil coated Mickey's cock with a bit more lube before pressing the head to his hole. He felt like he was going to explode if Mickey didn’t get inside him  _ like yesterday, _ but he reined his desperation in. This was Mickey’s  _ first time. _ This was something special to the elder Crispino in a way that Emil hadn’t felt when he lost his own virginity. He could be patient. He licked his bitten-swollen lips as he wrapped his legs around Mickey’s hips.

“Whenever, whenever you’re ready,  _ láska,” _ he rasped, and suddenly Emil was filled in one quick thrust.   
  
He shouted his pained surprise, eyes flying wide as his fingers scrambled for purchase in Mickey’s back. He might have stretched himself, but Mickey was much thicker than his three thin fingers altogether. He panted through the burn, focusing on the rushed, distressed voice apologizing rapidly in his ear. Emil was pretty sure Mickey hadn’t even noticed that he’d switched to his native tongue in the middle of a sentence, which Emil honestly found pretty fucking cute. He winced as he actively relaxed himself, nodding for Mickey to continue.

He braced for another sharp thrust, but was met with a slow, controlled slide out before steadily thrusting in. Emil’s eyes fluttered as Mickey kept the torturous pace, his previously flagging cock brought back to life in no time, driving him further into the range of ‘crazy’ with each restrained thrust. He kept his eyes on Mickey’s the whole time, begging for more, faster, harder,  _ anything. _

“Mickey,  _ prosím,” _ he groaned, losing his patience as he used his legs to pull Mickey into him harder. He chanted a low, breathy,  _ ‘yes, yes, yes’ _ when Mickey finally took the hint, sliding his hands under Emil’s knees, spreading them so they were not only unhooked from behind Mickey’s back, but were also pushed back until Emil was almost bent in half. The change in angle served to grind the plump mushroom head of Mickey’s cock into Emil’s prostate, and the urgent need to come was suddenly overwhelming.

He reached a hand between them, his head tilting back as he quickly stripped his cock, and Mickey whimpered at the site, eyes slamming closed. Emil’s other hand reached for Mickey’s face, smiling when his eyes flew back open.

“Watch- Watch me. I’m gonna,  _ fuck, _ I’m gonna come,” he gasped, the muscles in his thighs tensing a moment before his face screwed up as if pained, incoherently babbling in Czech as his come painted his stomach. He absently noted Mickey’s dropped jaw and the desperate Italian cursing sounding above him as waves of pleasure racked through him, his ass rhythmically squeezing around the cock still buried deep inside him. He was hummed happily as Mickey followed not even three full thrusts later with a harsh cry and desperately grinding hips, as if Mickey wanted to push every bit of his come further into him (which was an impossibility with the condom- maybe something else to consider for future reference). 

Mickey abruptly collapsed downward, wrapping his big, strong arms under Emil, cradling him tight to Mickey’s body in an amorous embrace as he twitched and gasped through the last of his orgasm. Afterward, everything was still save for their heaving breaths struggling to return to some semblance of normal, and the quiet slide of skin against skin as they shifted to a more comfortable position. 

Emil gently tugged the condom off Mickey, tying it off before dropping it into the trash can beside the bed, then went to the bathroom (but not before stopping to press a soft kiss to the back of Mickey’s outstretched hand) on wobbly legs to clean his stomach and ass.

Emil couldn’t help the sleepy, delighted grin stretching from ear to ear as he crept back onto the bed and into Mickey’s waiting arms. He rubbed his nose against Mickey’s in affection before planting a sweet peck to his lips. He wiggled in close, molding himself against Mickey’s side, unable to pull himself from the brink of dozing off, careening into sleep as he splayed over Mickey’s chest, sinking under with the sound of Mickey’s heartbeat under his ear. 

He blearily opened his eyes sometime later (a quick glance at the alarm clock signaled that he’d only been out for maybe 20 minutes) when warm fingers brushed his cool, sweat-damp hair out his face. Mickey was watching him, which probably would have been creepy to just about anyone else, but Emil thought it was kind of sweet. He just lazily smiled when their eyes connected.

“Emil?” Mickey whispered, and Emil hummed in question. “What are we going to tell everyone?”

Emil snorted. “We tell them the truth.”

Mickey scoffed. “The girls are going to be unbearable.”

“They’ve  _ been _ unbearable, according to you, for  _ months.” _ Emil pointed out, and Mickey made a noncommittal sound. 

“Maybe, but it’ll get  _ worse.” _

Rolling his eyes fondly at the return of Mickey’s ‘grumpy old man’ scowl. “At least we don’t have to pretend we don’t want each other anymore...right?” He asked hesitantly, and Mickey’s arms tightened around him.

“Of course. I guess I just don’t want to be made fun of by Sara for all the things she  _ was _ right about.” Mickey grimaced. Intrigued, Emil propped himself on one elbow.

“Oh? Like what?” He prodded, laughing when Mickey covered his face with a pillow, mumbling unintelligibly into the fabric. He lifted the side, scooching to hide under the cushion too. “Try again.”

“Myslím, že Tě miluji.” Mickey murmured, eyes closed as if he was bracing for a bad reaction, and the breath rushed from Emil’s lungs.

The pronunciation was absolutely butchered and heavily accented, but the point came across to Emil just fine.  _ ‘I think I love you’ _ danced in his mind for a full, breathless minute as he studied Mickey’s unreadable face. Mickey had apparently taken the time to learn some Czech without him knowing about it, and good  _ god, _ was that endearing. His heart raced as he beamed so brightly, it hurt his cheeks.

“Penso di amarti...too,” Emil made a face at his shitty Italian, but it was good enough for Mickey if the bright, happy laugh was any indication. 

As Mickey pressed kisses into his face, Emil couldn’t help but send a mental thank-you to Sara and Mila, and basically everyone else they knew, really, for their meddling, their pushing for them together. He wasn’t sure either of them would have made steps toward one another otherwise. 

\---

The next day, when they shared the news, he laughed until he cried at Mickey's indignation as Mila rolled her eyes, forking over a twenty into Sara’s outstretched hand. 

**Author's Note:**

> láska - love (term of endearment)  
> prosím - please
> 
> Thank you for reading! x


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